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Chapter One:
The Perfect Babe

Installment One
Installment Two
Installment Three
Installment Four

Chapter Two:
The Fairness of Life

Installment Five
Installment Six
Installment Seven
Installment Eight
Installment Nine

Readers React
to Lefty's Story


An original work of fiction
by Lefty

Installment 7

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: The following is based on a true story. It is at least as true as any current Made-for-TV movie now being shown. All names have been changed to protect any affected party. Some names have been changed several times. The author reserves the right for any vaguely autobiographical portion of the following to reflect more positively on his persona than would otherwise be true in reality. Please cut some slack to any recognized person, place or thing, however fictionalized it may be. END DISCLAIMER

This is the seventh installment of Lefty's continuing saga. You may want to read the first installment to give you some idea of the trials and tribulations leading up to the current dilemna.

Dating in the 90s:Parity Error
Chapter 2: The Fairness of Life, Installment 7


With every time that Leah has flaked out on a date, I seem to be looking forward to seeing her even more. By now, I am REALLY looking forward to seeing Leah. I wonder, does this mean that I have inherited the Jewish male neurotic gene?

I had long ago figured out that there must be a strand of DNA, made especially for Jewish males, telling those males to pick the craziest, most detached from reality, utmost neurotic Jewish female that they can find, and marry her. I came by this theory when my cousin Ralphie couldn't find anyone outside our family with enough psychoses, so he decided to marry my other cousin Miriam. Cousin Ralphie freely admits that he is attracted to neurotic women. Cousin Miriam does not freely admit that she is neurotic, but it is evident in just about everything she does. Besides, she is a Jewish female New Yorker.

I visited the two of them and my theory extends to there being some kind of contagion factor – I developed stomach pains from my visit. I wonder, could I develop stomach pains from being with Leah? That would be proof of something I suppose. I have to work it into the theory.

Can anyone really have cousins like this?




Leah revisited

glowingI feel a sense of déjà vu while I tell myself that Leah could not be as attractive as I remember. I knock on Leah's door. Again when she answers her door, she looks wonderful. This time, with a hint of glow about her.

"Hi, Leah", I greet her loudly over the ferocious yapping from Rags. "You look great!"

"Hey Shermie, come on in," she calls out while stepping back.

"How do you feel?" I ask her, opening the floodgates.

Ad Nauseum

"You know, I'm not having such a great time. I've been nauseous and queasy for weeks now. At work, it's all I can do to finish the day without tossing my cookies. My doctor is telling me to take it easy for the first trimester because she is scared that I might miscarry. Meanwhile I feel so awful all the time, that it is hard to drag myself out of bed. I feel so tired at night that I just poop out by nine o'clock. My supervisor is a pain in the behind and she's expecting me to put in 80 hour weeks. All my clothes are beginning to get tight, and it's getting uncomfortable. I've got to start buying maternity clothes."

I can see that having a baby is no picnic. My last question was merely polite, and now I'm afraid of further inquiries. But I remember how to be a good listener from one of the psychology texts. "Uh, that's too bad," I muster up sympathy. This is an obvious sign to hit away.

Leah continues, "You know, I am usually very active, but the doctor advises me to take it easy for awhile. I am just going crazy from the inactivity. The most I can do is go for light walks with Rags. No more jogging--it might disturb the baby. And that, with how badly I feel; I just can't do any exercise right now."

I manage to get Leah off the baby track for maybe five minutes and we discuss dinner plans. We decide to go to a local restaurant. "I would drive, Leah, but my car was dying on the way here. It was overheating pretty badly."

"No problem, Shermie, we can take my car," she says while checking the front door to make sure it is locked.


Getting there

We walk into her attached garage. A cute sports car is waiting for us there; a Mitsubishi Talon. We get into the car and make ourselves comfortable. Comfortable for a small, low slung, contoured sports car anyways. Leah keys the ignition and the car starts up nicely. I think. Actually, I can't really tell because the radio starts up also, and it is blaring painfully loudly. I don't recognize the song. Leah lowers the volume to a reasonable level and pulls out of the garage at the same time. I am impressed at the way she handles her car. I have often heard that the way women handle their cars reflects on their dancing ability.

"Yo, Leah. Is this rap?" I ask over the reasonable sound level.


"Uh, did your ex-husband leave it on a rap station by mistake?" I ponder out loud.

"Nope, I like rap. I'm kind of getting into hip-hop too."

"Oh." I ponder that one silently for awhile. "I like bluegrass music."

We are heading down a one-way Manhappening Beach street and Leah hangs a quick louie while thinking about my questionable musical tastes. "I'm not sure I know what bluegrass music is."

"It's kind of a blend of Irish music with a little country thrown in," I inform her. "The next time it's on the radio, I'll let you know.

"This is a nice car, Leah. Do you have a name for it?", I ask casually.

"Nope", Leah replies, "I never thought about naming it. I bought it used for a really good price. It's been very reliable for a sports car and I drive it for work in some bad neighborhoods."

"Oh", I say, "that sounds good."

Stay tuned for the next installment of Chapter 2!



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